


Finding Him

by MissGryffindor



Series: Finding Family [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGryffindor/pseuds/MissGryffindor
Summary: Six months on from learning the truth about his parentage, Jon Snow travels to Castle Black.  There he meets Maester Aemon, the only other Targaryen living in Westeros, and tries to learn as much as he can about his birth father and their family - all while having to hold back the truth of his real identity.





	Finding Him

Jon let out a gasp of awe as they came up over a ridge and caught sight of the Wall for the first time.  Maester Luwin had refreshed his lessons on Bran the Builder, and given them an overview of the history of the Night’s Watch, in the week or so prior to their departure. 

Nothing Maester Luwin – nor Uncle Benjen, in truth – had ever told them could have prepared Jon for the sight of seven hundred feet of ice.  He turned to look at Robb, and found he wore a similar expression.  This was already proving to be an interesting trip. 

Six moons had passed since Lord Stark had taken Jon down to the crypts at Winterfell and told him the truth of his parentage.  He’d had six moons to adjust to being a Targaryen and yet sometimes Jon felt six years….even six lifetimes…..wouldn’t be enough time.  It was that difficulty which had persuaded him to take up his father’s suggestion and visit Castle Black. 

_His father._  

Although by blood and birth that honour went to Rhaegar Targaryen, the only father Jon had ever truly known was Ned Stark.  That was one thing he _had_ been able to sort out in his head over the last half-year.  The rest……Aegon Targaryen seemed to him to be another person, and Jon could no sooner imagine anyone seriously calling him by that name as he could them calling him Ser Ryam Redwyne or Ser Duncan the Tall. 

It felt so like a name from the histories Maester Luwin read, and out of place among the wolves of Winterfell. 

Riding towards Castle Black, Jon felt as if he were coming to the end of a very long journey.  He had never been further than four or perhaps five days’ ride from Winterfell, and they had travelled half a moon’s turn now.  Having the Warden of the North in their party meant they had mostly been honoured guests, staying in castles and holdfasts rather than sleeping under the stars. 

Jon couldn’t quite believe it had been almost two moons since he had agreed to his father’s suggestion.  Ravens had flown back and forth between Winterfell a number of times before their party had set out. 

To all the world, it must simply appear that Lord Stark – as Warden of the North – was visiting Castle Black in an official capacity.  Robb’s status as heir explained his presence, and thankfully Benjen accounted for Jon’s.  Why should he not visit with his uncle?

And now – after all this, they were finally here. 

As their horses brought them closer and closer to the Wall, Jon let his imagination run away from him.  He thought of the lessons Maester Luwin had given them, of the stories his father had told about Bran the Builder beside the fire at night, of Old Nan singing _Brave Danny Flint_.

“I never thought it would be this tall!” Robb exclaimed.  His brother rode next to him and they had both spent the last half-moon’s travel sharing their awe at the sight of so much of the North. 

“To think it is thousands of years old”, Jon sighed.  “Think of all the men who must have fought here!  And at all the other castles.  Uncle Benjen has said before that only three of them are manned now.  After all Old Nan’s tales of it, I do wish a little that the Nightfort was one of them.”

Robb snorted.  “Think of the tales _we_ could’ve told Bran and the girls if we’d gone there instead!  We could’ve told them it was haunted by spirits of Night’s Watchmen of old.  At the least, we’d have gotten a good scream out of Sansa.”

“You would’ve needed to tell that story.  I’ve only started getting used to her calling me brother again.  I don’t want to ruin that by sending her into hysterics.”  Taking her cue from Lady Catelyn, Sansa had tentatively begun to refer to him as her brother – as she had done when they were much smaller.  Before she understood what the word _bastard_ meant.

Relations between Jon and Lady Catelyn had improved in the last half-year.  To the outside world, perhaps, there was little change save her addressing him by his name.  But Jon found himself included far more than he had been previously in family events.  When Lord Cerwyn had visited last, as he was wont to do every year or so, Jon had not been excluded from the family table at dinner as had usually been the custom.

Jon knew Lady Catelyn had always lived in fear of him usurping the birth-right of her true-born children – her obsession with Robb’s knowledge of the Blackfyre Rebellions had told him that – but now she knew he wasn’t the living embodiment of her husband’s infidelity, her fear seemed to have melted away.  That said, all four of them – Lady Catelyn, Jon, Robb and his father – knew the danger Jon’s existence placed the family in and it was not taken lightly. 

She would never be able to treat him as the nephew by marriage he was (it would be far too dangerous), but Lady Catelyn now treated him as a distant relation, he supposed.  Jon tried hard, but often found he couldn’t quite quantify it.  Thankfully, the Winterfell staff had attributed her willingness to call Jon by his name to his disappearance and the terror it had caused Lord Stark to find him gone. 

-

The last part of the ride to Castle Black seemed to Jon to take the longest, somehow.  He was eager to see Uncle Benjen again, and intrigued to see him among the other men of the Night’s Watch.  More than once over the years, Jon had considered joining himself.  But since that day in the crypts, his father had spoken seriously to Jon of the options he had moving forward and his interest in the Watch had waned. 

“Almost there”, Robb called with a grin when they were close enough to distinguish men on the battlements, facing southward. 

“Almost there”, Jon echoed.  It had been two years since he had seen his uncle, and in Jon’s book that was two years too many.

“It will be good to sleep in the same bed for more than one night”, sighed Robb.  Jon agreed; he had heard one or two of the guards they had brought with them complain about how changing beds so often put their backs out.  Wyl had made a jest about that, but Jon had not understood it. 

As they approached the gates, Jon saw them open to reveal a large courtyard in which men were training.  Jon hoped he and Robb might spend some time with the Master-at-Arms.  Ser Rodrik remained in Winterfell but Jon did not want to lose out on time he could spend with a sword in hand.  And it would be good to compare themselves to fighters from other parts of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Lord Stark rode in first, as he always did, with Robb and Jon behind him.  As his father dismounted, Jon noticed a large man perhaps two decades older than his father approach and shake his hand as an old friend.  Jon wondered if this was Lord Commander Mormont, a man who had fought alongside Lord Stark at the Trident. 

“It has been a long time.  It is good to see you again, Lord Stark.  I trust your party fared well on the journey?”

“We did.  Gods be good.  And you are right, it has been a long time.”  His father turned around and beckoned Jon and Robb over.  Jon followed his brother.  Since he had learned the truth of his birth, Jon had found himself less irritated at always having to walk a few steps behind Robb. 

“I am sorry your brother is not here to greet you”, the older man apologized as Robb and Jon made their way over.  “He is out on a patrol.  He should return by nightfall, however, to join us at table.  These are your boys?”

“They are”, his father nodded.  He touched Robb’s elbow pushing him forward.  “This is Robb, my eldest son and heir to Winterfell.  Robb, this is Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, previously Lord of Bear Island.  You recall me speaking of his sister, Lady Maege, who rules there now?”

“I do, father.  It is an honour to meet you, my lord”, said Robb politely.  Mormont shook Robb’s outstretched hand, but snorted at the mention of his sister.

“Any man who calls my sister _Lady_ Maege in her presence is like to be challenged to join her in the training yard.  Might be a Stark can get away with it, though.  And this will be the other son you’ve brought with you, Lord Stark?”

“Yes.  Jon, come here.”

Jon stood a couple of steps forward and tried to ignore the several dozen pairs of eyes on them.  It seemed such esteemed a visitor as Lord Stark did not often grace Castle Black with their presence.  He forced a smile on his face and shook Mormont’s hand. 

“I thank you for extending your hospitality to us, Lord Commander”, said Jon.  Although he knew his father would discuss urgent Night’s Watch matters with Mormont, Jon was well aware that his father had only decided to make this visit in person so he – and, more importantly, Jon – could meet with Maester Aemon. 

Jon felt butterflies in his stomach to think another Targaryen was so near.  That side of the family seemed such an abstract notion at times, in part because Jon had grown up thinking of himself as naught but a Stark. 

“Our hospitality isn’t much, young Jon.  In truth, we are a shadow of the army we once were.  But, I hope to show you, your brother and your father how you can help us.  Marsh!” Mormont barked.  “Come here, and show Lord Stark and his sons to their accommodation.  We eat an hour after sundown, Lord Stark.  Marsh will ensure you and your boys have all you need.”

-

“What do you think?”  Robb asked.  “It is nothing like how I thought it would be.”

“Perhaps Sansa isn’t the only one of us who believes in songs too much”, Jon mused. 

The castle seemed both busy and empty at the same time.  As if there should be far more men here than there was.  The buildings Jon had seen thus far were old and in need of renovation.  It was said that magic held the Wall, and Jon wondered if magic was the only thing holding up Castle Black and sparing those in it.  This was not the Night’s Watch of song, myth and legend.

He glanced around the spacious (but evidently rarely-used) chambers he and Robb had been given to share.  The room had clearly been aired recently, and the beds changed, but it was nothing like what Jon had imagined.  He tried to picture Uncle Benjen sleeping in a chamber like this and failed. 

“Don’t tell Arya that when we get back”, Robb chuckled.  Jon nodded.  He missed his little sister more than he had anticipated. 

Thinking back to his failed attempt to reach Dorne, Jon wasn’t sure he could have spent as long as it would’ve taken to reach Starfall and return without seeing Arya.  She had been desperate to come with them, but father had refused.  He had told her that Castle Black was no place for a lady, which had led to retorts she didn’t want to be one and a row with Sansa.

Jon would have to think of something he could take back to Arya as a keepsake.  Perhaps Uncle Benjen might have an idea. 

“Has father told you when?” Robb asked. 

Jon looked over at his brother, who was chewing his lip again, and heard the unspoken part of that question.  _Has father told you when you might meet your great-great-great-uncle?_   It wasn’t until Jon had looked through some books in Maester Luwin’s library that he’d understood both that the man was around a hundred years old, and how removed their familial relationship was. 

But, the maester was a Targaryen.  And the only other Jon was like to meet. 

“He hopes to do so tomorrow.  As for the rest, who knows?”  His father had made it clear Jon would not meet with Maester Aemon until he had, and was satisfied the man could be trusted.  Even then, Jon was not to disclose his true identity.  It was too dangerous for all of them. 

Over the past half-year, Jon had come to truly understand the terror and strain under which his father had lived since that day in Dorne.  He had sought a sister and found a king and nephew instead.  Knowing all Lord Stark had undertaken on his behalf had calmed Jon’s anger and helped him to see he was the only father Jon would ever really have. 

Before Jon could speak further, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Enter, please”, said Robb.  Jon suppressed a grin.  Their father had expanded Robb’s education recently to help prepare him for the day he would become Lord of Winterfell.  Jon hoped that day would not come for many years. 

Robb’s attempts at being lordly, however, ended as soon as the door opened to reveal their uncle. 

“Uncle Benjen!” Robb exclaimed happily as he hugged him.  “We had hoped to see you as soon as we arrived.”

“We’re not all men of leisure”, Uncle Benjen replied.  He clapped Robb on the back and came over to embrace Jon.  Jon greeted him warmly, recalling the distant past when his uncle had lived with them all at Winterfell. 

“I’ve come to escort the two of you to dinner.  I left your father to Bowen Marsh.”  Jon recalled the round, red man they’d been introduced to in the courtyard.  He’d been tripping over himself to be of assistance to father. 

Jon wondered when the Warden of the North had last visited Castle Black.  He knew his father had not done so before.  Had his grandfather, Lord Rickard?

Jon followed Robb and Benjen out of the room and along a walkway.  He tuned out Robb’s incessant chatter about their journey north and the castles, inns and holdfasts they’d stayed at.  Instead, Jon took in the courtyard.  There looked to be a smithy, various kennels and stables, and those crooked buildings seemingly holding themselves up. 

And then he looked upward, to the Wall.  It seemed to reach the sky and Jon hoped at some point during their visit, Uncle Benjen might take he and Robb to the top – where he might see what lay beyond.  In truth, Jon would’ve liked to travel a little past the Wall, but he knew his father was unlikely to permit it. 

Perhaps it was for the best, as Jon knew it would drive Bran and Arya wild with jealousy when Robb inevitably spilt the beans on their return. 

The courtyard seemed far more sparsely populated than it had been on their arrival.  Jon had seen each and every pair of eyes travel towards them, hover for a moment, and then look away.  The process was usually repeated several times.  Jon supposed Mormont had ordered them to treat his father’s party with the utmost respect – after all, the Warden of the North had always been the best friend the Night’s Watch had. 

-

“What is this about, Ned?”

Ned might have been able to fool Mormont into thinking he was only doing his duty as Warden of the North by coming to Castle Black, but from the moment he had sat down to write the first letter proposing his visit he knew it was unlikely he’d be able to come and go without raising the suspicion of his brother, Benjen. 

Jory was on guard tonight, and he was a Winterfell man.  Ned trusted him to say nothing should it come to an argument.  He’d never discussed this with Benjen before and had no idea how his brother would react. 

“Officially, I am here as Warden of the North to speak with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.  It has been a long summer, but we are Starks.  We know that winter will come eventually, as sure as night follows day.  I am here to discuss with Lord Commander Mormont how Winterfell can aid him through what may prove to be a long winter.”

Benjen poured himself a glass of the wine he’d brought with him and sat down opposite Ned.  “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially, I would like to meet with your maester.”

“Aemon?”  Benjen seemed surprised.  “I always thought quite highly of Luwin.  He is wont to scoff at anything he cannot explain away with logic, but then that is the way of southron men.  What does Aemon know that Luwin doesn’t?”

“I don’t wish to speak with him in his capacity as maester”, Ned replied, lowering his voice.  He finished the glass of wine in his hand and poured another. 

In some ways, this was worse than telling Jon.  He could justify not placing such a burden on a child.  It was harder to justify not telling Benjen that their sister had not been kidnapped or raped, and that she had birthed her husband’s true-born son. 

“Lyanna?” Benjen asked quietly.  His brother looked him in the eye.

“Lya”, Ned confirmed.  “I’m sorry I haven’t always been honest with you about what happened in the south.  I haven’t been honest with anyone, really.  Not until recently.  She was his wife, Ben.  I know not how it came about, but she was his wife.”

Benjen chuckled darkly.  “Even from the grave, our sweet sister still has the power to surprise.  I knew she went with him willingly, and that she loved him, but she said nothing of a wedding or even the promise of one.”

“You knew?  You knew and you said nothing?”  Ned remembered the Northern host gathered at Winterfell ready to march upon King’s Landing, all of them calling for the Mad King and Rhaegar to meet a brutal end for the violent deaths of his father and brother, and the violation of his sister.  But Benjen simply shrugged.

“When the Mad King called for your head it meant war regardless of whether or not Lya simply ran away from a marriage she was being forced into.  I heard her argue it out with father, not long after we returned from Harrenhal.  He told her she’d be dragged kicking and screaming if need be.  We were going to war anyway.  I thought if I said anything then it might make our bannermen doubt the cause.”

“You should have told me.  You should have told me the truth.”  Ned felt guilty at that thought, though.  Was it not what Catelyn had said to him the night of Jon’s disappearance?  That he should have told her the truth?  In all these years he had not confided in Benjen.  They were both guilty of withholding secrets.

He felt even guiltier at the thought of Lyanna being told she would be physically forced into a marriage she did not want.  His sister had tried to tell him of her misgivings, and he had brushed them aside.  How many lives would be different had Ned taken his sister’s side?

“And have you told _me_ everything about Lyanna?”  Ned hesitated, and then shook his head.  “I thought not.  So, why are you here?  Is it to admit to the last Targaryen living in Westeros that the war which killed his family was built upon two people who loved each other?  Or is it to admit to him that he isn’t, technically speaking, the last Targaryen living in Westeros?”

Ned was shocked.  Benjen could mean nobody but Jon.  “You knew?”

“Of course.  I’m not stupid, Ned.  You might have spent years away from us in the Eyrie, but I still knew enough about you to question your story about Jon.  I was the youngest, always underfoot or invisible.  I heard you and Brandon argue about Ashara, and how he had dishonoured her.  You, father a bastard?”  Benjen shook his head. 

“Besides, he was Lya in miniature when I first met him.  A lot quieter, granted, but I’ll assume that’s the little he got from Rhaegar.”

“All these years…….”  Ned couldn’t quite fathom it.  All these years, he had someone to share the burden with but didn’t know it.  All these years, he and Benjen had never spoken of the dangerous truths they held in their hearts. 

“Which is the lie?  I was always curious.  Do I commemorate my sister’s passing or my nephew’s birth on the wrong day?”

Put in such stark terms, Ned only felt guiltier.  Why did protecting his family require such dishonesty?  Whatever he did, it would involve deceit.  Whatever he did, it would cause pain.

“His nameday.  I needed to put some distance between the day she died and the day he was born.  And it helped that he would be younger than Robb.  I hoped it would make him seem less of a threat to Catelyn”, Ned shrugged.  He wasn’t sure how successful that had been until six moons ago. 

“Why now?  Jon is four and ten.  Why have you suddenly decided to seek the maester out?”

“Jon knows”, Ned replied quietly.  He took another gulp of wine and fidgeted.  Although Ned knew it had been necessary to tell Jon the truth, part of him wished he’d never had to.  Nobody should have the burden he’d placed on that child’s shoulders.  And to Ned, Jon remained a child – whatever he claimed. 

“When?  Why tell him now after all these years?”  Benjen asked, his brow furrowed with curiosity. 

“He ran away.  It was not long before his last nameday.  The boys had been in Wintertown with Jory and overheard some woman say his mother was a Dayne.  Jon asked me to name his mother, I refused, and he ran away to Starfall, thinking to meet her.  When we got him back, I told him the truth.  It hasn’t been easy, for any of us, since.”

It had taken time for the dust to settle, but Catelyn seemed now to have forgiven his lies.  She accepted they were told to protect his nephew and Ned thought it had helped when he admitted never having told Benjen, Jon’s own blood.

Benjen seemed incredulous.  “And you meeting Aemon is somehow going to make things better?”

“I want Jon to at least meet someone from that side of his family.  And I want him to do so in a controlled environment.  I don’t want him to think I’m keeping so much of who he is from him.  I don’t want him to resent me.  But, at the same time, I don’t want to put him in danger.”  Ned placed his wine glass on the floor and his head in his hands. 

He had never truly known if he’d taken the right course with Jon.  He knew that some in his position – Tywin Lannister came to mind – would’ve fought another war to place their nephew on the Iron Throne and then ruled in his stead until he came of age.  Lyanna had asked him to protect Jon but Ned had never seen placing him on the Iron Throne as a means of doing that. 

Nonetheless, Ned knew Jon’s life had not been an easy one thus far. 

“It’s one hell of a mess, brother.”

“’Tis”, Ned agreed, sighing.  “Mormont is giving me a tour in the morning.  After luncheon, I should like to speak with the maester.  What can you tell me of him that I do not already know from sharing a table at dinner?”

“Aemon is a good, kind man.  He is the best maester I have ever known, and one of the best men.  We spoke…..oh, a moon or so after I came to Castle Black.  They all knew I was a Stark.  He wanted to tell me he was saddened to hear of the manner of our father’s death, and of Brandon’s.  We talked.  We aren’t the only ones who lost people.  Elia and her children were innocents.”

“I tried – I tried to get justice for them, but Robert would not listen.  None of them would.”  When he closed his eyes, Ned could still see their little bodies wrapped up in cloaks.  When he’d spoken of it to Jon, Ned couldn’t stop himself from taking his nephew in his arms. 

In the darkest days after his return to Winterfell, with a resentful wife and a quiet orphaned boy, and nothing the way he’d ever imagined it, Ned had always comforted himself with the knowledge that Jon hadn’t met their fate. 

“Aemon is smart.  Don’t think because he is an old man, and is blind, you can fool him.  You cannot.  Speak to him honestly and he will do the same in return.  He deserves no less.”

Ned nodded.  “Thank you, Ben.  I am sorry I lied.  If there was anyone I should’ve trusted more when I returned to Winterfell, it was you.  You are right – I spent years in the Vale.  I missed so much.  I should……I should like you to speak to Jon, if you can.  It doesn’t need to be now, but one day – one day, speak to him of her.  It would mean a lot to him.”

“How is he?”  Benjen swallowed wine and poured himself more.  Ned considered it for a moment. 

“There are days when he is fine, and days when he draws into himself.  I don’t believe he even realizes he is doing it.  He visits the crypts more often, but not in a way that is obvious to anyone else.  It has been six moons since I told him and two since he agreed to my suggestion to visit Castle Black.  It is a work in progress.  How do you come to terms with such a thing?”

“Do you ever?”  Benjen quietly voiced Ned’s deep-seated fear. 

-

Jon was both excited and disappointed to find his training session consisted of himself, Robb and Uncle Benjen.  While Lord Commander Mormont gave their father a tour of Castle Black, along with First Steward Marsh and First Builder Yarwyck, Jon and Robb found themselves in a free part of the courtyard with sparring swords.

Both he and Robb had hoped to be able to train with the recruits the Master-at-Arms was working with, but Uncle Benjen had told them he would oversee their session instead. 

“I want to see how much you two have improved since my last visit to Winterfell”, Uncle Benjen told them.  “Ser Rodrik is a good teacher, I know that well enough.  But I want to see how much of his lessons have got through those thick heads of yours!”

Jon smiled at that, and gripped his sword tightly.  He saw Uncle Benjen glance over at him with a strange look upon his face and frowned.  His uncle cleared his features and checked both their grips. 

“Okay, let me see what you can do.”

Jon let Robb come at him first, as he usually did.  He held back and allowed his brother to raise his sword and direct it at Jon’s left – his weaker side.  Jon moved sideways to reduce the size of Robb’s target and began to parry.  They were close in skill and Jon had always considered them to be reasonably evenly matched – though Ser Rodrik had said more than once he thought Jon more skilled with the sword. 

Robb pulled back just in time to miss one of Jon’s shots, but in doing so lost his footing and allowed Jon to disarm him. 

“Damn!” Robb cursed as Uncle Benjen helped him to his feet.  Jon could hear a loud snort and turned to see the Master-at-Arms, a man he recalled from dinner was named Thorne, smirking over at them. 

Jon was angry on his brother’s behalf.  Robb had simply lost his footing – they were not used to training in this yard.  Ser Rodrik’s training sessions were on far more even ground. 

“Ignore him”, Uncle Benjen muttered under his breath.  “Thorne has no liking for anyone with Stark blood.”

Perhaps that was why Uncle Benjen was overseeing their training session.  His attitude provoked Jon – and Robb, for Jon saw increased determination in his brother’s eyes – to try harder and therefore prove they were good fighters.  They progressed through the session and at the end of it their uncle seemed more than impressed. 

“You’re doing well for your age.  You both still have much to learn, but you’ll be good, strong Northmen by the time Ser Rodrik is finished with you, I’ll wager.  We’ll have another go at it tomorrow.  I haven’t trained for a while – I could use the practice and it’ll give the two of you a chance to see how you measure up against a real man.”  Jon grinned up at his uncle. 

“Why doesn’t that man Thorne like us?” Robb asked Uncle Benjen when they were putting away their swords.  “I thought House Stark was the most supportive of the Night’s Watch?  That’s what Lord Commander Mormont said last night, at any rate.”

Jon noted that Uncle Benjen glanced furtively at him, before checking to see if they could be overheard.  “Ser Alliser fought on the battlements when Tywin Lannister took the capital at the end of the war.  He offered him and the other men a choice – death or the Wall.  Thorne blames House Stark for the war and therefore his presence here.”

“Oh”, said Jon quietly.  It was one thing for him to know the role his parents’ elopement had played in starting the war (after all, would Uncle Brandon have gone to King’s Landing and called on his father, Rhaegar, to come out and die had they not run off together?), but quite another to hear of how the war had led to such hatred for him and his blood.

“Robb?  Why don’t you go and ready yourself for luncheon?”  Jon watched his brother walk away, and looked up at Uncle Benjen.

Uncle Benjen ruffled Jon’s curls affectionately, and glanced around them.  He lowered his voice to a whisper.  “I want you to stay away from Thorne as much as possible.  You and Robb both, you understand?”

“I do”, Jon replied quietly.  He looked down and began to fidget with the jerkin he wore.  It was difficult for him to fathom, sometimes, what it must’ve been like for his parents, and for everyone else caught up in the war. 

All the histories spoke of King Robert’s love for his mother and how he had avenged her by killing the man who’d stolen her from him on the Trident.  They spoke of how bold and brave Robert was in combat.  But Jon wondered how his mother felt, alone in a tower, worrying about what had happened to her husband and to her family.  He wondered what it felt like for those who sent husbands and fathers and sons off to war, only to find they didn’t come home. 

“Thorne may have admired your father, but he despises any with your mother’s blood.  If all is well, you shall be able to speak to Maester Aemon tomorrow.  I met your father.  He was a good man and I know my sister loved him very much.”  Jon looked back up.  Uncle Benjen knew 

His uncle chuckled softly.  “I’ve known who you were since the moment I met you.  You look very like her, though there is some of him in your looks if you know what to see.  The maester is a good man.  Treat him as honestly as you can – ask him of his journey to the Wall.  He came accompanied by Old Nan’s favourite member of the Kingsguard.”

“Ser Duncan the Tall?”  Old Nan was famous for her admiration of the man.  It was said he had once passed through Winterfell, but Jon had never been sure how much of Old Nan’s tales were fact and how much were fancy. 

“The very same.  Now, be off with you and I shall see you at luncheon.  I have some work to do before then.  Mormont might give me some freedom while you are all here, as a way of trying to gain Ned’s favour, but it isn’t limitless.”

Jon thanked his uncle and set off toward the room he shared with Robb.  His intention for this trip had been to find out as much of his birth father and their shared family as possible from Maester Aemon, but it gladdened him to know that Uncle Benjen thought Prince Rhaegar a good man. 

His opinion had always mattered to Jon.

-

Ned found himself a bundle of nerves as he was shown into the Castle Black library by one of the stewards, a middle aged man who seemed as jittery as Ned himself.  So far he had only seen the maester at table, and during his tour that morning.  With Mormont present there was nothing Ned could do but request a meeting after their luncheon. 

The maester seemed to be close in age to Old Nan – at least, as close as anyone Ned had ever met.  He recalled Benjen’s words and reminded himself he must be as honest as possible without giving away the truth.  _Promise me, Ned._   Lyanna’s words rang out in his ears.  For all this man deserved to know of his family, Jon’s safety must come first. 

“Lord Stark?” Maester Aemon asked as the steward guided the old man into a seat. 

“Yes, maester”, he replied.  The steward poured them wine, and then left.  “I thank you for meeting with me.”

“Not at all.  House Stark has always been important to the Night’s Watch.  Our records show sons of your House rising to the rank of Lord Commander more than any other.  _Winter is Coming_ – a promise that always holds true, as true as both the Watch and House Stark’s loyalty to it.”

“My family has always understood the importance of the Night’s Watch”, Ned agreed.  “You all protect us Northerners and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.  It should be acknowledged.  As Warden of the North, I will do all I can to aid you.  I have already pledged my support to the Lord Commander.  I only regret that it has taken so long for me to visit Castle Black in person.”

For all Benjen’s warnings of the dire straits the Night’s Watch found itself in, it had taken this visit and – in particular – his tour this morning with Jeor Mormont to make him see the truth of the situation.  The Night’s Watch needed more food and more equipment.  Above all, it needed more _men_.

“I have been Warden of the North for five and ten years.  I should have come sooner”, Ned admitted. 

But, then, the five and ten years he had ruled the North seemed to have passed by at the speed of light.  It did not feel so long since the day he’d heard of his father’s death, and of Brandon’s, and the responsibility he had never wanted had fallen to him. 

For five and ten years the North had looked to him.  He had travelled extensively but never before to Castle Black.  That would change – and he would encourage Robb in this endeavour.

Ned took in a deep breath.  “I feel I owe it to you, maester, to pass on my deepest regrets for what passed in King’s Landing.  I may have sought justice for the deaths of my father and brother – and the return of a sister I mistakenly believed taken against her will – but I did not then, nor do I now, believe justice served by the slaying of children or the breach of a sworn oath.  Nothing may have come of it, but I want you to know I called for both Ser Jaime Lannister and the butchers of Princess Elia and her children to be met with the full force of our laws.”

Ned thought again of their little bodies and how haunted he still was by them.  Such feelings had only grown stronger from the moment he met Jon.  Whatever lies he had to tell did not matter, so long as his nephew did not meet the same fate as his brother and sister. 

He looked the maester – all but blind for a number of years, he was told – in the eye, even though he knew Aemon may not fully return his gaze.  Ned hoped his voice spoke true.  Of all of them, only Aerys had truly deserved to die.  And even then Ser Jaime’s involvement went against his sworn oath. 

“I thank you for your kind words, Lord Stark”, Maester Aemon said eventually.  His tone was measured but Ned could sense the emotion behind it.  Maesters and men of the Night’s Watch may leave behind their names, and claims to lands and titles, but they never truly left behind their _families_.  

“I am sorry kind words are all I can give you.  You may not crave the vengeance the Red Viper would wish, but you deserve some sort of justice.  If it were in my power to give it, you should have it”, he said honestly. 

Ned may have reconciled with Robert after Lyanna’s death, but he had not forgotten those children – nor Robert’s insistence they were _dragonspawn_. 

“My brother’s son, King Jaehaerys, once said that madness and greatness were two sides of the same coin.  I wonder sometimes if the same is not true for vengeance and justice.  When does one become the other?  Are the deaths of those who carried out atrocities such as those inflicted on Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon and their mother enough?  Do we seek to kill their leaders, those who gave the orders?  And what would they then ask in return?”

Ned pondered that for a moment.  A cycle of violence that never seemed to cease.  Perhaps there was truth in the maester’s words.  Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch may have murdered Rhaegar’s children, but Ned knew as well as anyone else that the order came from Tywin Lannister.  He had Clegane on a leash and used him to their mutual advantage. 

It sickened Ned more than he could put into words.

“Mayhaps you are right”, he said.  “My grandfather’s mother was a Blackwood of Raventree Hall – as was your brother, King Aegon’s, wife – and she told many a story, passed down through the family, of the bitterness between those of House Blackwood and House Bracken.  Hundreds of years of fighting over past slights both real and imagined.”

Maester Aemon chuckled.  “I know it well, Lord Stark.  I travelled to Castle Black with no less a person than Lord Bloodraven.”

“Of course”, Ned murmured.  The maester had lived to such a great age that Ned found it difficult to comprehend that some of those the man had met were people he considered to be historical figures.

“In any case, I wish you to know of my sorrow that the war ended in the bloodshed of innocent children.  No child should be punished for the sins of their father – or, in this case, grandfather.  King Robert may speak of his love for my sister, but I know she went with Rhaegar willingly.  She told me so as she lay dying.  He was a good man and I will not speak ill of him.”

Ned had stopped any talk at Winterfell of Robert’s Rebellion, and of Prince Rhaegar.  His children knew the broad strokes of the war but he had never spoken of Rhaegar as an evil entity.  He’d known well enough that the day would come in which Jon must know the truth. 

No, Ned had simply allowed people to believe what they chose – just as he had done with the identity of Jon’s mother.  The fewer lies he had to tell the better.  He told them because he had to, to protect Jon, but they had never come as freely to him as they had to Robert, or to Brandon.

“I thank you for your candour, though I wonder you feel the need for it.  These events took place five and ten years ago, my Lord.  We cannot change them now.”

“No”, Ned agreed with a sigh.  “We cannot.  In any case, I wished you to know my feelings on the matter.  Besides, I have brought my two eldest boys with me – as you already know.  While they are here, I want them to learn about the history of the Watch.  If they might spend some time with you to do so?”

_Even now, I am unsure how much it is safe to tell you about Jon.  All I can see is that you will not harm him._

“I should be glad to speak with your sons if they wish to spend time with an old man”, Maester Aemon nodded. 

-

Jon picked nervously at his luncheon, a stew of some description, as he thought over the coming afternoon.  He and Robb had spent the morning training with Uncle Benjen and a couple of the Winterfell guards, and were to spend the remainder of the day with Maester Aemon. 

He had seen the maester at mealtimes but they had not spoken to each other as yet.  His stomach was fluttering away with nerves at meeting the old man.  Coming this far north had only made him feel closer to his Stark heritage than ever.  

At first, he had not wanted to come because he worried doing so would be a betrayal of his uncle and what he’d done to shield him.  But, as the moons had passed and he had found it difficult to adjust, he had decided he needed to know as much about the Targaryens as he could.  The good and the bad.

Jon knew he could not ask questions about Rhaegar outright, for to do so would arouse suspicion, but perhaps he could learn a little of the side of the family he had never known.  Jon had once thought of a mother, and perhaps siblings or a grandparent.  But this great-great-great uncle was the only Targaryen family Jon had left in the Seven Kingdoms – and he _had_ known men and women of Targaryen blood going back to Daeron II. 

At least Robb would be by his side for this meeting. 

His brother had been a source of comfort to Jon these last six moons, for Jon could never consider Robb anything less.  He had listened while Jon spoke aloud his fears of the Targaryen madness, his guilt over the lies Lord Stark had been forced to tell, and his sadness at finding and losing his mother all at once. 

Robb was the only one who could pull him out of his fits of brooding.  He distracted Jon with sparring practice and pleas to their father for a fishing trip with Jory.  Without Robb, Jon knew he would have found everything so much worse. 

“Not hungry?” Robb murmured from his right.  Jon shrugged. 

“Just a little…..I am being silly as always.”  That was what Jon usually called it when he thought too much about something.

Robb sighed.  “Not silly.  But, if you don’t want it, then I’ll eat whatever you leave.  Training left me starving.  If we were at home, I’d have gone straight to the kitchens and begged something from one of the maids.”

Robb did that regularly – Jon or Theon often by his side – and none of the kitchen maids would deny the heir his wish. 

“It will be alright”, Robb reassured him quietly.  Jon nodded.  He had known his Stark family all his life; it was daunting to sit down with someone from his Targaryen side. 

-

The maester had not yet arrived when Jon and Robb entered the library an hour after luncheon.

Jon followed Robb into the room, and glanced about it.  There were far more books than in Maester Luwin’s library at Winterfell, and scrolls which Jon thought looked older than him.  Three seats had been placed around the fire for them.   

“We must be early”, sighed Robb.  “Have you ever seen as many books as this?  Even Old Nan’s tales could not fill them all.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Old Nan has a story for _everything_.”  Jon wished the old woman did not become so upset when his mother’s name was mentioned.  He knew the old nurse could tell him countless stories of her childhood at Winterfell.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say?”

“Not really”, Jon admitted.  He didn’t quite know how to start.  He could not boldly ask the maester to tell him of every Targaryen he knew, and to ask after Rhaegar specifically would lead to questions Jon couldn’t answer.  Jon doubted the maester would guess who he was, but he’d at least wonder why the subject had arisen. 

Part of Jon wanted to tell the maester everything.  To let him know that he wasn’t alone any more.  But to do so was far too dangerous for all of them and a poor way to repay Lord Stark for everything he had done. 

“I wish I could tell him everything, but I know I cannot”, Jon said aloud, the sadness he felt evident in his tone.  “Sometimes the truth is too dangerous to speak.”

“Ah, you are already here!”  Jon turned round to see Maester Aemon enter the room.  He smiled at the steward who brought him, dismissing the man.  The steward closed the door behind him. 

“There we are.  It is Lord Robb, is it not?  And Jon?”

“I am Jon, maester”, he said, helping the old man into the chair closest to the fire.  “Are you warm enough there?”

“I am.  And you?  Winterfell is hardly the south, I know, but neither of you are used to the way of life here.”

“We are Northmen”, said Robb confidently.  Jon held himself in as Robb spoke.  For all they could remember nothing before Winterfell, in truth he had been born in Dorne and Robb in the Riverlands. 

“Of course”, the maester chuckled. 

“It has been good to see Uncle Benjen again”, Jon admitted.  “He has been training with us.”

“He has been training your sword hands, and your father has asked me to train your minds while you are here.  Yes.  Lord Stark wishes for you both to know more about the Night’s Watch.”

“Robb will be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day.  It is right he should know of how House Stark can aid the Watch”, said Jon.  He knew his father’s reasoning for bringing along Robb was more than hiding his true purpose.  Robb would one day rule these lands. 

“And Jon is to be given lands”, said Robb loyally.  Jon ducked his head at that.  He still hadn’t managed to get his head around it and had been trying to push any thoughts on the matter from his mind.  It wouldn’t be much – little more than a holdfast – but it would be Jon’s, and he would be Robb’s bannerman.  He was to be granted lands to the north of Winterfell, something he had never allowed himself to contemplate. 

“You shall be Lord Snow, shall you not, brother?” smiled Robb. 

“I don’t know anyone will call me _that_ ”, Jon snorted.  “In any case, it shall not be for years yet.”

Jon recalled their true purpose here, and something his uncle had said to him the day before. 

“Maester?”  Jon began tentatively.  “Uncle Benjen said you came to Castle Black with Ser Duncan the Tall.  He is – Old Nan, who looks after us at Winterfell, she has lots of stories about him.  He is her favourite member of the Kingsguard.  She says there never was a truer one.”

“Uncle Benjen never told me that”, put in Robb.  Jon glanced at him, and his brother quietened. 

“Yes, I knew Ser Duncan.  A good man.  A loyal man.”  The maester’s look grew sad, and his eyes drifted as if he were thinking of days long past. 

Jon felt a little guilty.  Was it right to press this man on his Targaryen heritage when even speaking of Ser Duncan the Tall seemed to affect him so?  Jon recalled their reluctance to ask Old Nan for stories of his mother.

“Ser Aemon the Dragonknight was always Jon’s favourite”, said Robb.  “When we used to spar with sticks, Jon would always call the Dragonknight.  I liked Ser Ryam Redwyne, but Jon often called him first.”

“They say I was named for Aemon the Dragonknight”, said the old man.  He stood, and held onto the stone around the fireplace.  Jon jumped up from his seat, and went to help the maester. 

“He fought with a sword named Dark Sister.  The sword is lost now.  Beyond the Wall.  The last man to wield it was Lord Brynden Rivers, whom history knows as Bloodraven.  He took it with him on a ranging when he was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

“Do you think the wildlings have it?” Robb asked excitedly.  “Imagine that – a Valyrian steel sword once wielded by _Visenya_ herself, in the hands of a wildling!”

“Did you know the Lord Commander well, maester?” Jon asked.  Bloodraven was the son of King Aegon IV, known as Aegon the Unworthy.  That made him Jon’s kin too. 

“As well as anyone did”, he chuckled.  “You know the song of course, _A thousand eyes and one_ , indeed.  He was an exceedingly clever man.  Very sure of his purpose in life.  He was lost along with Dark Sister.”

The maester sat down again, with Jon’s aid.  He looked at his brother, unsure what to say.  They were meant to be discussing the Night’s Watch.  Jon recalled Maester Luwin’s lessons. 

“Maester Luwin has told us some of the history of the Night’s Watch.  As has Old Nan.  They……they don’t always match up.”

“Old Nan always told us scary stories about the Nightfort.  It isn’t manned any longer, is it?”  Robb added. 

“Not all maesters are willing to accept legends passed down through the ages.  Some even doubt the Long Night ever happened.  Others……well, they accept some legends and not others.”

“So Old Nan could be right about everything?” breathed Robb.  “Oh, Jon, think of how much we could scare Sansa and the others with that!”

“I told you on our journey here, brother, you shall be scaring Sansa alone.  I will not undo the efforts she has made to be kind to me of late.  These last six moons, it has been as if the sister I remembered from her youngest years has returned.”  Fearing he was saying too much, Jon changed the subject.  “Have you visited any of the other castles, maester?”

“I came to Castle Black through Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.  But I have not since left Castle Black.  It has been many years since I walked outside these walls.  That is the life of younger men; of builders and rangers – and even stewards.”

-

Ned decided to look in on the boys before retiring for the night.  There had not been an opportunity before the evening meal to discuss their first lesson with the maester and he wanted to ensure it had passed without issue.  His own meeting with the man had assured him there would be no conflict between dragon and wolf, but he was concerned for Jon. 

Jon may train with Robb and learn from Maester Luwin as he had before, but Ned could see something had changed deep within him.  He knew it was not a desire to sit on the Iron Throne – but perhaps an even greater need to know who he was?

He knocked on the door of the chambers the boys were sharing before walking in unannounced.  The two of them were sitting on Robb’s bed, playing a game of cards. 

“Father”, said Robb, looking up from their game.  Ned closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to their fire. 

“How are you both managing here?  You are enjoying training with your uncle?”

“Yes, father!” Robb replied with a grin.  “Uncle Benjen has taught us moves Ser Rodrik won’t.”

Ned snorted.  Had he, now?  Most likely Ser Rodrik taught them to fight honourably, and Benjen knew well enough from years of fighting beyond the Wall that not all men fight in that way.  In the end, he supposed Benjen’s way had them better prepared, but Ned did not like to think on either of the boys going off to war.  Twice he had gone.  Twice he had wished it hadn’t been necessary. 

“It has been good to see Uncle Benjen again”, Jon added thoughtfully.  Ned recalled how Benjen had always treated the two boys the same at Winterfell, before he took the Black. 

He thought on Benjen’s words from the night of their arrival.  His insistence he had known whose son Jon was since the moment he’d first seen him.  Benjen and Lyanna had always been close. 

“Good.  Your uncle has an important job to do here, which is why we see so little of him at Winterfell.  You shall have ample time here to compensate for that.  And your lesson this afternoon?  With Maester Aemon?”  Ned didn’t want them to think him too concerned. 

He saw Robb glance at Jon, giving him first opportunity to answer the question.  After all, it had been for Jon’s sake the lessons had been arranged. 

“I enjoyed our lesson……” Jon told him slowly.  “It wasn’t like I thought it would be.  I wasn’t like one of Maester Luwin’s lessons.  But he told us about Lord Bloodraven and Ser Duncan the Tall and Aemon the Dragonknight.  And Dark Sister.  I – we – it was – I enjoyed it.”

Ned smiled softly.  Jon had always been the type to consider things slowly and carefully and then see the truth behind them.  For all he looked the image of Lyanna, there was so much of Rhaegar in him that people did not think to see. 

Lord Bloodraven – Ned had forgotten he’d been Lord Commander; another of Jon’s relations.  It was strange for him to think on it as much as it must be for Jon, to think of all the Targaryens who had left their mark on the history of the Seven Kingdoms and know Jon was their kin. 

Perhaps it would not be until their return to Winterfell that Jon began to come to terms with whatever Maester Aemon told him. 

“I know we cannot tell him the truth, but I wish we could”, Jon admitted.  “He – I think he believes his family is all but gone.  I wish he knew I was – who I am.”

“I understand.  But it is too dangerous.  I would be betraying the trust your mother placed in me if I permitted anything that placed you in danger.  And it would.  Someone listening at the door – a slip of the tongue – nobody can know, Jon.”  Jon nodded, and Robb took advantage of the silence to speak of Ser Duncan the Tall. 

Ned watched Jon as Robb spoke, and saw his son (to him, Jon would always be that) think quietly on his first proper encounter with another Targaryen.  Ned wondered whether he had done the right thing in bringing Jon here.  He had intended to allow him to explore that part of his heritage and to know he wasn’t alone in the world.  He hoped it wouldn’t cause him undue pain. 

_Gods, Lya, but I wish I knew if I was doing the right thing.  I have always tried my best to keep my promise to you, and to do right by him, but is it possible to do both?  All I have done, has it been enough?_

-

Four days before their departure from Castle Black, Jon went to the library after luncheon alone.  Robb was to meet with their father and Lord Commander Mormont to discuss grain stores for the approaching winter.  Jon knew Robb was not vital, rather both a way of demonstrating House Stark’s continued and future support to the Lord Commander and designed to create an opportunity for Jon to spend more time with Maester Aemon alone. 

They had gone to the library every day after luncheon.  As well as learning more about the Night’s Watch, Maester Aemon had told them of his time in Oldtown at the Citadel and of King’s Landing – a place Robb had never been to and Jon only a babe in arms at the time of his only visit. 

Jon had also sought out the maester alone a couple of times, and intended to do so again before their departure.  He might not have learned much of Rhaegar, but he had of the maester. 

Jon regretted the lies he had to live behind.  It was safer, though, for all of them. 

He was looking through an old book on the rule of Lord Commander Osric Stark when Maester Aemon came to join him.  The old man was helped into the by the same steward as he had been every other day, a man Jon had come to know as Clydas. 

“Good afternoon, maester.  I am sorry it is only me today.  Robb is with our father and the Lord Commander”, said Jon.  He poured them each some water, as had become his habit after the nerves of their first couple of lessons had abated, and smiled at Aemon. 

“No matter.  What were you reading as I came in?” he asked.

“Lord Commander Osric Stark.  He was elected to his command at the age of ten.  I cannot imagine ruling anything at the age of ten.  Even lords and kings have regents.”  As Jon supposed he would’ve done, had his claim to the Iron Throne been pressed.  It was strange to think upon.  Perhaps Lord Stark would’ve ruled in his name.  Or Uncle Benjen.

“True”, Aemon nodded.  “But, then, he was a Stark and your family has always been closely associated with the Night’s Watch since its conception.”

“Would you have liked to be Lord Commander, maester?”

Aemon chuckled.  “I was always meant to advise, never to rule.  I was asked, you know.  When my father died there were a number of claimants to the Iron Throne.  My elder brothers were dead, but both had fathered children.  Neither Daeron’s daughter nor Aerion’s son were considered fit.  And we return to the concept of child rulers.  Several lords pleaded with me to renege on my vows and sit the Iron Throne.  I refused, and my brother Aegon became king.”

Jon contemplated that.  Aemon had refused the throne, as Lord Stark had done in Jon’s stead.  Was he happy about it?  Did he think on what had followed and wonder if House Targaryen would be as lost if had he taken the Iron Throne?  Jon didn’t like to ask. 

“Sometimes, people see the glory in ruling.  They see the people bending the knee to them.  They do not consider the burden of it”, he continued. 

Jon thought of something Robb had said to him a moon or so after he’d learned the truth of his birth; of how Robb had not known whether he felt jealousy or pity towards him.  

Jon would rule lands, a holdfast, and be a lord in his own right.  But he would not hold the lives of every Northerner in his hands as Robb would. 

He did not want the Iron Throne. 

Realizing that had been a step forward for Jon in coming to terms with the truth of his parentage and what it meant to be Rhaegar’s true-born son.

“I would not sit the Iron Throne”, Jon added softly. 

“That is very wise”, Maester Aemon told him.  “Often, the best rulers are not those who seek it, but those who stand forward when needed and serve.  A good ruler rules because they must, not because they want to.  My brother Aegon was the fourth son of a fourth son.  He was not raised to believe he would reign over the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Who do you think was the greatest king, maester?”  Jon had always favoured Daeron I, the Young Dragon.  He had been a boy ruler, as Jon would’ve been.  Would he have lived up to his hero’s reputation as a warrior?  Jon supposed he would’ve experienced problems with Dorne, as Daeron had.  The Dornish held no love for anyone named Stark, he knew, not after his mother’s displacement of Elia.

“Ah, isn’t that the question!  Which is your hero, I wonder?”

“The Young Dragon”, Jon admitted bashfully.  He saw a smile grow across Aemon’s face. 

“Yes, yes, he has been the hero of many a young boy.  But to lose so many lives in taking Dorne by force?  When you push people down more and more, the likelier it is they will rise up against you.  Daeron did not understand the Dornish.  They are a proud people not given to yielding – they showed that to Queen Rhaenys, did they not?  My mother was a Dornishwoman.  _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_.  Those may be the words of House Martell, but they reflect the Dornish attitude to Daeron and those who came before him.”

Jon had never thought about it that way. 

“The Dragonknight almost died in Dorne, didn’t he?”  Jon recalled that from his teachings.  He had been placed in a crow’s cage by Lord Wyl, after travelling to Dorne under a banner of peace with the Young Dragon. 

“He did”, Aemon nodded.  “Dorne was not fully part of the Seven Kingdoms until the marriage of my grandparents, King Daeron and Queen Myriah.  He was a good man, my grandfather.  He worked to try and unite all of his people.”

“But he didn’t have the loyalty of his own kin.  Maester Luwin has taught us of the Blackfyre Rebellions – in great detail.”  Jon hung his head slightly at the memory of those lessons.  They had taken place before Lady Catelyn had learned the truth of his birth.  When she still saw him as someone who might usurp Robb’s right to Winterfell. 

That had hurt Jon.  As much as he had wanted to be the heir rather than the bastard, he would never do anything to hurt Robb or any of his other brothers and sisters.  He was no Daemon Blackfyre, and Aemon seemed to sense the source of his discomfiture. 

“True.  But, whatever we may think of his methods and the influence he had over my uncle, the first King Aerys, Lord Bloodraven remained as loyal to Daeron as I believe you to be to your brother, Robb.  For every Daemon Blackfyre there is a Brandon Snow; for every Bittersteel a Bloodraven.”

“Yes”, Jon conceded.  “Sorry.”

“What have you to be sorry for?”

“I – it is difficult to speak of those we have lost.”  In truth, Jon had yet to remove the habit of apologizing for everything.  Even when he knew it was not his fault.  He and Lady Catelyn were better friends than ever, but although Jon had forgiven her dislike towards him it was not something he had yet forgotten.

“It is, Jon.  It is.  Now, to return to our discussion on the rule of kings…….”

-

Three days before they were due to depart for Winterfell, Ned decided to take up Benjen’s suggestion that he travel beyond the Wall with a couple of Night’s Watchmen to hear new recruits swear their vows.  There was a Harclay and a Forrester among the men in training and Ned felt it his duty as Warden to attend the formal admission of both Northmen into the Night’s Watch.

It had taken hours of pleading, but Ned had eventually permitted Jon and Robb to attend with him – provided all the Winterfell guards they’d brought with them were present, along with a number of Night’s Watchmen.  Both of them had behaved impeccably during the visit (Ned doubted even Sansa would’ve found anything amiss in their manners) and he felt they deserved a reward. 

Besides, as Warden of the North Robb would have to carry out justice against any deserters from the Night’s Watch as both he and Jon had seen Ned himself do on several occasions.  When they saw him do so in the future, they could think back on the sacred vows such a man had taken before the heart tree.

Ned had to admit to feeling a sense of wonder as the outer gate underneath the Wall opened and they rode out onto the thick snow beyond.  _Benjen must have done this hundreds of times by now_ , he thought, as they were able to breathe in fresh, clean air. 

The snow was crisp and fresh and the trees in the distance their destination.  It was a moment in which he found himself desperately missing Catelyn and wishing she could be here with him.  And then he thought of Lya, and how wondrous she would have found this sight.  She would’ve ridden off for the trees and called on the rest of them to catch her.  Lyanna wouldn’t have worried about security or wildling ambushes. 

Ned glanced across to see Jon and Robb’s reactions.  Both were gazing all around them, eyes wide open, drinking everything in.  A part of him knew the others – particularly Arya, and perhaps Bran – would be wildly jealous when they returned to Winterfell and heard of this jaunt north.  Arya…..sometimes it worried Ned just how much his younger daughter was Lyanna reborn. 

The wolf blood was stronger in Arya than any of his other children.

Ned shook himself out of that and found they were at a gathering of heart trees.  There were nine of them.  Had he not known his brother to be an honest man, Ned would never have believed Benjen’s description of the place.  It was stunning, like nothing he had ever seen before. 

He heeded Benjen’s instruction to leave their horses outside the grove.  The Winterfell guards remained with them, but Ned, Jon and Robb followed the men in black and saw the two young recruits kneel before the heart tree.  They swore their vows in unison.

“Night gathers, and now my Watch begins…….”

Ned remained in respectful silence while they finished speaking.  He tried to imagine Benjen as a younger man, saying the words.  His brother would stay true to those vows; vows sworn before the Old Gods of the North.  Ned knew that. 

“Father?”  Ned turned at the sound of Jon’s voice, while the Night’s Watchmen embraced their new brothers.  “Might I – would it go against the Old Gods if I took a couple of the leaves from the heart tree?  Ones that have fallen on the ground, I mean.  It would – Bran and Arya, I think they would appreciate a keepsake from beyond the Wall.  And I can hardly take snow.  It would melt.”

Ned thought about it for a moment, and saw Robb bite his lip.  The two boys had obviously come up with this idea together.  “A few.  And be careful with them.  This is a sacred place.  I think this once, the Old Gods would know you meant to honour them.”

Jon smiled and picked up a few leaves, which he placed in the pocket of his cloak while Ned shook hands with Harclay and Forrester.  Robb did the same and Ned could tell they were both already thinking of the stories they could tell back at Winterfell. 

Ned was pleased he had brought them both with him.  It had been good for Jon to meet with Maester Aemon and for Robb to understand the importance of the Night’s Watch to the North.  And he felt a sense of relief himself in the knowledge that Benjen knew the truth of Jon’s birth – that a very real part of their sister lived on in her son.  He no longer felt guilty for keeping the truth from his brother.

-

Jon went to see the maester the day before they left for Winterfell.  A feast was organized for the evening, to commemorate the end of their visit. 

Jon found the maester in his chambers, looking through old letters.  He noted the wax that bound them, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.  These were clearly letters from his family – perhaps his brother, the late King Aegon?  As much as he didn’t wish to pry into the maester’s private business, Jon felt a great longing to see the writing of his long-dead kin.

Spending this time with Aemon had woken the Targaryen, the dragon, in him.  It had made him see that although he had always felt a Stark, there was another part of him which could thrive – alongside, not instead of, it.

Once again, Jon wished he was able to tell the old man who he really was.  It had been difficult over the last half-moon, living in Castle Black and going to lessons almost every day but having to hold back the truth.  Jon thought Maester Aemon would be gladdened by the thought of another Targaryen living so close by.  But he knew it was too dangerous.  He had to keep reminding himself of that. 

They would be leaving not long after daybreak the following day, however, and Jon wanted the maester to know how grateful he was for the time they’d spent together.  While their lessons were supposed to concern the Night’s Watch, Aemon had spoken to them about anything and everything.  Jon had several new stories regarding Ser Duncan the Tall to discuss with Old Nan upon his return to Winterfell.  He thought the old woman would be pleased to hear them. 

“Maester?” Jon said softly, alerting Aemon to his presence. 

Maester Aemon turned to face Jon, and smiled softly.  “Jon Snow.”

“Yes, maester.  I was – we – I was packing my things for our return to Winterfell.  I just wanted to come and thank you for the time you have spent with me.  With both of us – with me, and with Robb.  It was very kind of you to do so.  I know we were not always good students, Maester Luwin has reprimanded us more than once for steering talk away from the lesson at hand, but I want you to know that I have learned a lot during my visit.  And I know Robb feels the same.”

Jon wished he had something he could gift the maester, a keepsake of sorts, but there was nothing.  He had so few personal possessions.  He wanted to tell Maester Aemon that he felt a little less alone, a little less the last Targaryen in Westeros, but Jon knew he could not. 

“You are both intelligent young men and I wish you well in your future endeavours”, Maester Aemon replied.  “One day, you shall be a lord – a heavy responsibility for anyone to carry – and your people shall look to you for guidance.  I hope that the little we have discussed of kings and lords and leadership and rule may be of help to you.”

“I am sorry if I have interrupted you”, Jon apologized. 

“No matter.  I am only looking through some old letters.  I cannot see to read them any longer, but that does not take away their meaning.”  Aemon handed the packet to him.  “These letters were sent to me by my nephew, King Jaehaerys.  He wrote to me often.  His son was not so diligent, but his grandson _was_.”

Jon took in a deep breath.  He knew Aemon spoke of his birth father.  Of Rhaegar.  Jon was torn between wanting to ask everything and the knowledge that he had to be careful.

“Lord Stark…..says Prince Rhaegar was a good man.  As does Uncle Benjen”, said Jon haltingly.  It was the first time he’d gathered the courage to speak his birth father’s name aloud to the maester.  “Did – did you know him well?  I know you said you have not left Castle Black since your arrival, but did he ever visit you here?”

A flash of something crossed Aemon’s face, but Jon could not identify what it was. 

“Sadly, he did not.  Prince Rhaegar and I exchanged letters over many years, but I do not believe he ever travelled north of the Riverlands.  We shared an interest in prophecy and the history of House Targaryen.  Rhaegar once believed his son the deliverance of a promised prince, who would – in any case, we were both wrong.  He studied ancient scrolls extensively; scrolls procured by Lord Bloodraven.”

“Really?”  Jon wondered at that.  Lord Bloodraven was a bastard, as Jon had so long presumed himself to be, and a former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, which Uncle Benjen may rise to be one day.  It gave him a connection of sorts to the man. 

“Yes.  He had sought out rare, arcane scrolls for my uncle, King Aerys.  They remained in the library of the Red Keep until Prince Rhaegar sought them out.  He was a great scholar.  We exchanged letters over years on the matter of his studies.”

“ _Oh_.”  Jon wasn’t a disciplined student.  Perhaps he took after his mother in that way?  But, he had also heard it said Prince Rhaegar was a great warrior, and Jon had always been assured of his skill with a sword. 

“Maester, I am sorry – I know that Prince Rhaegar was not at fault in the disappearance of Lady Lyanna.  I am sorry for what happened to Prince Rhaegar’s children.  It is an evil thing, to kill a child.  To not punish those who do so.  My – my brother Rickon will soon see his third nameday.  I know not why anyone would do such a thing.”

Jon could see Aemon’s eyes water slightly, and he helped the old man into a seat.  This was precisely why they’d stopped asking Old Nan for stories about his mother.  Jon felt guilt at having caused the old man, whom he had come to have a great deal of respect for, any pain.  He wished learning the smallest thing about Rhaegar did not come at such a cost. 

“I am sorry”, said Jon.  “I shall – do you want me to fetch anything for you?”

“No.  No, you are quite alright.  I shall rest a moment.  When you live to be as old as I am, you value a moment of rest when needed.”

-

Ned remained at table with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon once all the other guests had departed, even Benjen.  His brother had escorted Robb and Jon to their chamber earlier and not returned. 

“I must thank you for your hospitality, my lord.  It has been a most instructive and productive visit”, said Ned.  He finished the wine in his cup, and poured another.  Mormont grimaced at his words. 

“That…..is what I hoped for.  We are not proud here at Castle Black, Lord Stark.  We take what is offered.  But we need more than what has been offered.  Above all, we need more _men_.”

“As House Stark is wont to remind us, _Winter is Coming_ ”, Maester Aemon added.  “And the Night’s Watch is in need of every man the realm can spare us.  Manning the Wall is not as attractive a prospect as it once was.  Visenya herself modelled the vows of the Kingsguard on those of our order, so highly was the Night’s Watch valued even as recently as the Conquest.  That has changed.  We are a band of the dutiful, but more so the criminal and unwanted.”

Ned nodded.  He had seen that for himself.  Inwardly he cursed his past dismissals of Benjen’s urging that the Watch itself was falling into disrepair alongside their castles.  Ned knew there were many poachers turned rangers, good men who could capture wildlings as they once had the game of lords.  But it was not enough. 

“I shall raise the matter with my bannermen”, he promised.  “And petition Lord Arryn, Hand of the King, when next I write.  Lord Arryn is wed to my wife’s sister, and I was fostered at the Eyrie.  I know the man well.  Perhaps we can further encourage southron men to join you.  There are few outside the North who remember.”

“Aye, ‘tis true”, sighed Mormont.  Ned knew the only noble recruit of note in recent times was Lord Royce’s son, Ser Waymar.  The two men had passed through Winterfell on their way to Castle Black around the time of Robb’s last nameday with their guardsmen. 

“I will do what I can to promote your cause.  You have my word.  The Night’s Watch protects the Seven Kingdoms.  You should have our protection as we do yours.  I’ve learned much of your work here during my visit and I thank you again for your generous hospitality.  I am sure you have more important tasks to see to.”

“Your visit has been an honour.  And if it gains us more men then I am all for more of it”, Mormont assured him. 

“I must also give you my thanks, maester, for the time you have spent with my sons during our visit.  They have both impressed upon me how much they enjoyed your lessons.”  _Especially Jon, thank the Gods_.  _I hope that means I have done right in bringing him here._

Maester Aemon chuckled lightly.  “They are smart young men.  Both shall do well and are a credit to you.  Young Jon is more of a thinker, I believe, than I first saw.  He has an inquisitive mind.”

“Jon has always been quieter than Robb.”  It was one thing Ned had always felt he inherited from Rhaegar, for Lyanna had screamed and fought from the moment she entered the world.  “He has not always possessed the easy confidence that comes with being first-born.  This visit has been good for him.”

This visit had removed a little of the guilt Ned had always felt at keeping half of Jon’s heritage from him.  He could never speak openly of that heritage – even to those of dragon blood – but to learn of it seemed to be doing the boy good. 

Ned downed the remainder of his wine and bade the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon good night.  He walked slowly back to his chambers, Jory not far behind him, and glanced up at the wonder of the Wall.  Benjen had taken them up to the top earlier in their visit and Ned had seen the stunning view of the snowy lands beyond.  Seeing it for the first time had impressed upon Ned just how different a few leagues of land could make. 

He would send a raven to Jon Arryn soon after his return to Winterfell and impress upon him – and thus the King’s Council – the very real and immediate needs of the Night’s Watch.  Ned may have planned this visit more in the role of uncle and guardian and _father_ than Warden of the North, but it had opened his eyes as the latter. 

Reflecting back on the reason for their visit, Ned thought again of Jon.  He was becoming a good, solid young man.  Lyanna would be proud of him.  As would Rhaegar.  It made Ned feel a little guilty that he had always kept a close watch for any sign of the Targaryen madness which had consumed his late grandfather.  No, Ned had been lucky.  If Jon was any man’s grandson it was Rickard Stark’s.

Though Ned doubted Jon would ever be as forceful over the issue of marriage as Benjen said his father had been over Lya’s.

How much bloodshed could have been avoided had they listened to her?

Ned reached his chambers and closed the door behind him.  This would be his last night at Castle Black, and with every passing moment he felt vindicated in his decision to come here. 

-

Jon felt a sense of sadness as he prepared to depart Castle Black.  He had been unsure about this visit when the idea had first been mooted, but was now pleased they had come. 

It had filled him with a sense of belonging to speak to Maester Aemon and hear of Targaryens long dead.  Ever since he had been told the truth of his parentage, Jon had felt a need to know more of them – to fill the void left by the half of him that was missing.  It was not enough to simply know their names and the contents of the histories in Maester Luwin’s library.

Coming to Castle Black had helped him come to terms with the identity of his birth father far more than six moons of wandering around Winterfell and living inside his head, with only Robb and often his father as counsel.

He thought of the words Uncle Benjen had whispered in his ear earlier that morning, when he had come to hurry him and Robb.  _The next time I come to Winterfell, we shall speak of her.  My sister was wild and wilful, beautiful and brave, and I loved her.  I miss her.  And it is right you should know as much of her, and of her relationship with your father, as I can tell you._

Jon always looked forward to Uncle Benjen’s visits, but the promise of hearing more of his mother added to the anticipation.  He recalled what his father, Lord Stark, had said in the crypts all those moons ago.  That Uncle Benjen had known his mother had competed at Harrenhal as a mystery knight.  Jon wondered how much of Harrenhal, and his mother’s activities there, Uncle Benjen had held within him all the years since.

“I have enjoyed our time here”, Robb smiled as he readied his horse in the courtyard. 

Jon looked around them and reflected on the day of their arrival and the staring eyes.  They were in force again, Jon saw, but there was more kindness in them now than curiosity.  Jon and Robb had made sure to be as polite as possible to their hosts. 

Jon noted the man Thorne glowering in their direction.  He had taken his uncle’s advice and steered clear of him whenever possible. 

“As have I, brother”, Jon replied.  “It was right for us to come here, I think.”

“We can speak more of it on our return to Winterfell”, Robb offered.  Jon nodded.  They knew better the places in Winterfell they could speak in the knowledge nobody was listening in.  “I am pleased you found it useful to come here.”

They both went over to where their father stood with Lord Commander Mormont, Maester Aemon and a number of high officers – including Uncle Benjen.  Jon took a final look around the yard as the older men spoke.  In some ways it felt as if their visit had been longer than the half-moon they had stayed; in others it felt far shorter. 

“I thank you once again, Lord Commander.  For your time and patience, and for what you have shown me.  Winterfell shall furnish you with as much as we can and I will raise the matter of the growing movement beyond the Wall with Lord Arryn”, his father promised.  “Maester.”

Robb stood forward and shook hands with the officers, adding his thanks.  Jon followed him and gave particular thanks to Maester Aemon.  “I shall think on all you have taught us.  I swear it”, he said solemnly.  “I have learned more than I had anticipated.”

Maester Aemon wished them both a good journey, and Jon only had a moment to hug Uncle Benjen in farewell before he must mount his horse. 

“Until Winterfell”, Uncle Benjen whispered. 

“Until Winterfell”, Jon replied.  He glanced up at the Wall, thinking on how such a wonder had become a common sight to them of late, and then turned to follow Robb’s horse out of the yard. 

He could never find his birth father in the same way he had found his mother, but he felt he had found his family in this visit.  Maester Aemon was his blood and he felt blessed to have met a Targaryen as kind, honourable and generous as his Stark kin.  The little Maester Aemon had been able to tell him of Rhaegar had warmed his heart and helped him move closer to understanding where he had come from.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a third and final part to this series, set during King Robert's visit to Winterfell from AGOT.


End file.
